Lost Lyrics of the Middle Ages

Trow thee not upon
yon apothecary.
Bejubilate without thought;
for thine is that which
glistens upon the morning's dew.

Chorus

Mince well thy words,
for the new dawn doth break.
Scatters the beams
in thy specters.
Obligate the heavens
and rejoice anon.
Rejoice anon.

Deep in thy spirit
the brazen platters
premeditate ever more.
So, soft, yet sing forth
anthems and alight heav'nly quotes.

Chorus

N'er-do-wells springing
from Earth's confines
populate azure skies.
Bring up whiten clouds,
rumblings frighten coquettes.

Chorus

Colors as singing,
dash ever on.
Their hearts ring, always ring,
'til a final toll
cascades vehemently.

Chorus